StarCrossed Lovers But No One Knew
by holdonpainendshope
Summary: Cato and Clove of District 2 were star crossed lovers, but no one knew. R
1. Chapter 1

"Cato." You say stretching casually trying to look like you do every other morning.

"Clove." He answers you just as calmly.

"Have you thought much about the reaping?" you ask and for some reason (or perhaps you don't really want to know the reason) you can't quite look at him.

"Only since I was eight." He chuckles softly.

You realize how stupid you sound. Of course he's thought about the reaping. After all, this is your year. You think back to when you were both eight years old (the only time you were every taller than him) and assigned to be a "Career Pair". At the time it seemed so exciting and it was fun having a best friend- you had someone to train with, someone to study with, and someone to talk to. You even roomed together. The deal was that when you were of age, you would fight (as a pair) against other of age tributes in your district to decide the best possible pair to enter the games. Nine years later you were both seventeen. That means competing against seventeen and eighteen year old Career Pairs to decide who would enter the arena. It's an honor.

So instead of saying what you really want to say, you mumble, "Forget it." And begin your workout with a few laps around the gym. By the time your muscles are beginning to warm up you start sprinting, and place hurdles in front of yourself, pretending that you aren't jumping over dead tributes- oh no. You're jumping over tree trunks in a forest. You're jumping over cacti in the desert. You're jumping over your feelings.

By the time you're panting you decide that's enough running for now.

"Hey, speed demon." The sound of Cato's voice makes you jump.

"Are you ready?" you ask, getting ready to get down to business.

"Abrupt much?" he asks, grabbing one of the swords that hang off of the training center's cold metal walls.

"You know me." You mutter, grabbing a knife from the pocket of your training jacket.

A stupid grin washes over his face. "Really Clove?"

"What?" You ask, flicking dirt off of the knife until you can see the plain girl's reflection staring back at you.

"A knife again?" He taunts.

"A sword again?" You ask, repeating his mocking tone.

"Switch with me." He grins.

"No way." You half smile back.

"Come on." He smiles and for a second you feel like you just got punched in the gut.

"Fine." You mutter. You switch weapons and head to opposite sides of the training center.

"Ladies and Gentleman." He half laughs imitating the capitol's accent.

"Let the 74th Annual Hunger Games begin!" You laugh.

And then you meet in the middle.


	2. Chapter 2

You train for a few hours- nothing out of the ordinary happens. I few cuts and bruises that can be fixed in seconds with the Capitol's medicine, which you grab like a greedy child reaching for their favorite toy as soon as you are in private. You hate the cuts, you hate the bruises. Even the small ones are screaming at you. They say you will never make it into the arena and your entire life will have been for nothing. You will have wasted your entire childhood on something totally insignificant. You will ruin your own life, and your partners. You are a failure.

Getting bigger cuts mean something else entirely. They don't just talk- they scream. You will make it into the arena. You will die in seconds. Or worse. You will die through the game when you allow yourself to hold on to an ounce of hope. It will be slow- painful. You will be a part of a big show. But you won't cry, you won't beg, you won't even open your mouth.

You head into the shower and quickly wash your hair, face, and body. Quickly.

By the time your back in your dorm your silently thanking whoever got Cato out of there- you hate when he stares at you. You know a body is just a body and that it doesn't really matter.

Cato storms in and your ready to kill him. "Do you mind?" Your voice is laced with venom.

"Nothing I haven't seen, Clover." He half smiles.

"I'm serious." You growl.

"Clove, not only have I seen yours, I've seen Jamison's." he half smirks.

"Braggart." You snap back.

"It's not bragging if it's true." He says.

"Whatever." You roll your eyes.

"Jealous?" he asks.

For a moment, you're shocked. Seriously? "No." You say.

"I can see it in your face." He says. "You always blush."

"No I don't." You answer.

"It's your tell." He smiles.

"I don't have a tell." You say.

"You're embarrassed by anything related to sex." He smiles again, teasing me.

"No." You say. "Stop it, Cato." You draw myself up to my full height, ready to take him down.

"Prude little Clover just can't-" he doesn't even get to finish his sentence. You're on top of him, pinning his arms above his head while we're both on the ground. Heat rises to your face again. Stupid tell.

He smiles. "Not too bad, Clover."

"I'm not scared of you." You say.

"Prove it." He smiles. "Kiss me, you prude."

You're not sure if he's being serious- Cato had no tell. "Screw you." You say, pulling yourself away from him and standing up again, face flushed and eyes unable to look directly up. You attempt to braid your hair, but its nearing the small of your back. You're supposed to cut it before the games.

"Need help?" he asks.

"No." You struggle.

"Yes you did." He smiles and stands up. "I've done it a thousand times, Clover."

"Stop calling me that." You half smile.

His hands have memorized the act. And as he braids you ask, "So, what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"It's a surprise." He says finishing. For a second- it's fleeting- his hands linger on your back. It's a tease. It's a taunt. It doesn't go unnoticed by either of you.


End file.
